Shadow Worlds
by Musafreen
Summary: When an attempt at shadow-travelling goes wrong, Rachel Dare and Nico di Angelo find themselves in a world both eerily similar to and very different from their own; where monsters roam and mortals fight, and the biggest threats to their lives are likely their own abilities.
1. 0

**Notes:** Um. So.

This is technically (and for that matter, actually) something of a Crossover, but one of the things I am trying to do here is presenting a different version of Urban-Fantasy reality through the eyes of (two of my most beloved) PJO characters, and trying to figure out how much sense it makes to someone who has no prior knowledge of said different world. Think of it as an adventure involving OCs... who are not actually OCs.

**Disclaimer:** Characters and locations are not mine. Nothing in here is being or will be used for financial gain.

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**0.**

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_**1315:** Got reminder from Mom about random fundraiser. Have stopped trying to differentiate between them, but fundraiser so must go._

_**1445:** Just realized that this particular fundraiser is to be held in Chicago today evening. Am still in Camp. This could be a problem._

_**1530:** Coaxed Nico into giving me a lift. Must reluctantly admit that Clarion Business Negotiations class has it's uses._

_**1600:** Note to self: all designer gowns were dumped under my work-shorts. Might get stinkeye from Mom about wrinkles, but no time to do anything about that now._

_**1700:** Have never traveled via shadows before. Should be interesting._

- Excerpt from the Journal of Rachel Elizabeth Dare, dated 13th September.

* * *

_Chicago_

_8:49 pm, 20th of October_

Waking up to the sight of a cross-legged Oracle looking speculatively at him was not precisely unwelcome, but the scene was unexpected enough to make Nico scoot backwards and hit his skull on the headboard.

"Ow!"

"Oh good, you're awake," Rachel nodded and got up, "About time too. This place is starting to give me the creeps."

_This place_ was what looked like your typical low-end motel room- threadbare bed, and old TV and a cheap dresser, saturated with the aroma of industrial strength cleaners not entirely masking a half-rotten stench. Definitely not the kind of accommodation the Dare heiress would be used to, so he could sorta see her point. But to be honest, Nico had seen a lot worse in his year of living in self-styled semi-exile and anything was better than Casa Gaia, so he shrugged.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at him, as if he had done her a personal affront by not agreeing with her assessment of the place.

"It's not the Four Seasons," Nico pointed out, "but I've been in worse rooms. Once, there was this bedbug thing the size of a rat-"

"I'm not talking about the room."

Nico paused. Rachel was one of those people who went through all the life-threatening weirdness Camp had to throw at her (_including_ him and his superpowers) with perfect (if mildly eccentric) serenity. Grim was not a common expression on her, and the sight of it made him go through an involuntary spasm. The hosts of the Oracle were not panicky by nature, and _Grim_ was generally saved for prophecies predicting two deaths or more.

"This place," Rachel said, pen tapping on a notepad in her hand, "Can you feel it?"

Extra-sensory abilities were not too common in demigods (most of them tended to lean towards the more physical side of things), but Nico was one of the few exceptions. All that time of hanging around graveyards and monster lairs and the underworld had honed his otherworldly senses to a reasonably sharp point. If he closed his eyes and breathed in, he could sense Rachel near him- or at least the pulse of the Oracle (the Oracle was hard to miss, even in a crowd) she was attached to, a clutter of undefined people with no spirits to give their souls definition above him, and the Underworld below-

Nico snapped his eyes open, and saw Rachel staring speculatively at him again.

"I, uh-" Nico closed his eyes and tried again, "I can't feel the Underworld."

Rachel's expression went unchanged.

"I've had this problem before," Nico told her, "I landed in China once- the systems, the mythology. It's different there. The Underworld doesn't exist- at least, not the Greek way."

"We're not in China."

"Japan? Somewhere in Africa? India? I mean, the Hindu system is something like ours, doesn't really register on my senses either. It must be the two-person shadow travel thing, it glitches sometimes," he was babbling, why was he babbling? "Just give me a few hours and we can-"

"We're in Chicago."

Nico stopped, and stared at her.

"The guy downstairs, old newspapers, the GPS on my mobile- everything says we're in Chicago," Rachel said, "Everything except the Oracle."

And then Nico realized why he'd been feeling disoriented enough to start babbling. It was because even during that time when he shadow-travelled to the South Pole (that was on purpose, thanks- although he couldn't quite remember what said purpose was), he'd felt the thread of Hades. Sure, it wasn't below him, but it was there (like a constant itch) in the back of his mind. You could take the Child of Hades out of Hades, but it didn't really do much good, isolation-wise. The Underworld had always been a part of Nico, regardless of location.

He closed his eyes again, reaching out with his senses, and felt nothing.

This, he decided, could not be a good thing.

* * *

_**1900:** Dragged Nico for two blocks before giving up and walking into nearest hotel. Mom would not be caught dead in this place, but my muscles rebelled and so here we are. Kid's a lot heavier than he looks._

_**1915:** I thought this shadow-travel thing was supposed to be fast. How did we lose an hour on this? And why is Nico in a coma?_

_**1930:** Phone works, but numbers don't. Dialed Annabeth in desperation; only to have it picked up by deep-voiced man who refused to identify himself. Am starting to worry._

_**1935:** Consulted Oracle. Stony silence tinged with wariness, accompanied lack of Oracle-GPS. Am now definitely worried._

_**2000:** Note to self: In the future, avoid shadow-travel if at all humanly possible._

- Excerpt from the Journal of Rachel Elizabeth Dare, dated 13th September.

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**End Notes:** Comments on levels of WTF I don't get it will be vastly appreciated. :3 Or any comments at all, really.


	2. 1

**Notes:** Slightly edited version. to take into account the local weather. Sometimes I forget that not everybody lives in the tropics

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not for profit

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_**1.**_

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_**1130:**__ Shadow travel thing didn't take an hour. According to the guy downstairs, it took a week. Nico's freaking out. Understandable, considering the circumstances._

_**1140: **__Cash works perfectly fine, but credit cards don't. I have no idea why._

_**1143:**__ Re: "Here". Not too sure, but I think we're trapped in an alternate universe._

_**1150:**__ Suggested above to Nico. Was not very receptive to the idea. Can't blame him. _

_**1153:**__ ... we need a Plan. _

- Excerpt from Rachel Elizabeth Dare's Journal, Dated September 14th (Home)/September 21st (Here)

* * *

_Chicago_

_12 noon, September 21st_

* * *

Nico had been in Chicago before (he'd also been to San Francisco, Los Angeles, Rome, Venice and other places he hadn't really kept track of- there wasn't all that much he could do to fill up the days where his dad more or less exiled him from the Underworld), and to his utter frustration, fake Chicago was pretty much exactly like real Chicago. Same buildings, same landmarks, same semi-frozen huge-ass lake. Nothing at all suggested that this Chicago wasn't anything like normal Chicago (Well. Almost nothing at all. But maybe the Mist was throwing a fit or Chicago had a mass population of clear-sighted mortals or something, because everything else _did_ look exactly the same), and Nico was starting to wonder if his Underworld-GPS was the malfunctioning thing here.

Rachel backed up his this-is-not-home theory, though; and he figured it wasn't all that smart to argue with the Oracle.

"We should try and contact Camp," Rachel told him, "See if we can reach Chiron. Or Annabeth. Annabeth will probably have answers."

Nico conceded that "when in doubt, ask Annabeth" was a good strategy, and pulled out his prism. After fifteen minutes of him staring into (and flipping drachmas through) a rainbow, Rachel took out her notebook and scribbled something in it.

"Right, plan B," she said, "Mundane methods of communication. I can't get through to Annabeth- but maybe that's because my phone is busted. Maybe if we can find a payphone or something- beg a call out of an innocent bystander..."

Nico squinted over her shoulder at the notebook, "Did you make an actual _list_?"

"Being systematic is a good thing," Rachel said, "Or so I'm told. Is locating payphones one of your superpowers?"

Nico stared at her.

"Didn't think so. Right, so let's-"

"Why is 'pray to Apollo' third on the list?" Nico squinted at the notebook, "And why's there 'despise machines' written next to Shadow travel? Why is Shadow travel seventh?"

"It's _desperate measures_," Rachel corrected, "And it's a desperate measure because I have no idea where we're going to end up if we try to teleport out of here. For all we know, it could be Medieval Hawaii. Or Krypton."

Nico bristled. Okay, so this whole shadow travel thing was not an exact science, but this was positively the one and only time he had ended up in an entirely different planet. Or something.

"This doesn't usually happen to me!" Nico snapped, "I haven't even accidentally ended up in China for _ages_! I don't know why we're here! It makes no sense!"

"No, it doesn't," Rachel agreed, "Which is why we shouldn't try something possibly irreversible till we've exhausted all other options. So come on."

* * *

_Chicago_

_4 pm, September 21st_

* * *

Annabeth's number worked just fine when they found a payphone to dial it from. Unfortunately, the person who picked it up had been cheery, polite, understanding and male. Which was really sortof an anti-Annabeth. Other numbers got results which were wide and varied (a gravelly bass for Mrs. Jackson, for example), just not anything they wanted to hear.

Praying to Apollo? Didn't work. Which was something of a disappointment because everyone knew Apollo positively doted on his first not-a-mummy Oracle in half a century, what with that thing he had of pelting her with random gifts like improved aiming skills (which Nico thought was kindof overkill, given the Blue Plastic Hairbrush incident) and the world's only professionally decorated cave.

Praying to his Dad? Didn't work either. But Nico could have told her that without trying. Lord Hades expected his children to take care of any non-monetary crisis by themselves, thanks.

The Dare Enterprises Branch in Chicago? Apparently did not exist. Rachel had dragged him along on a two-block radius search just in case she'd mixed up the address. It had been a complete and total waste of more than an hour.

The last-ditch desperate effort involved finding the venue of Rachel's Charity Ball and working up from there. That went about as well as expected (the Ball held a week ago had been hosted by a Mrs. Astor, and apparently no amount of begging or subterfuge was going to get them a Ms. Raith's number because she liked her privacy; Nico was still trying to figure out what one of them had to do with the other), and they were back to glumly sitting in front of the building and staring at nothing.

"So," Rachel said eventually, "Can you try and get us back home?"

The day had not been too good to Nico's self-confidence. In addition to being stranded and lost in territory that _should_ have been familiar, his skeletal minions were refusing to respond to his summons. He'd learned long ago that like teddy bears, skeletal minions made everything better- losing them were like losing a metaphorical security blanket.

"I don't know," he growled at Rachel, "I can't _summon_ anything. This place is ridiculous- I can't even carry my sword!"

"You _are _carrying your sword."

"In a gym bag! If some monster comes at me, I doubt it's going to wait for me to get it out."

"Look," Rachel sighed, "considering all the things we've seen and felt so far, or _not _seen or felt so far, I doubt we're going to encounter anything while out here. But you're right- this place gives me the creeps and we really should be getting home so can you try getting us back?"

Nico hesitated. Most demigod powers weren't too exact to begin with, and when you were continuously running for your life, you tended to _use _your powers more than you thought about how exactly they worked. The Athena and Hecate cabins had managed to cobble together a few rudimentary theories about how some of the more common abilities worked, but Shadow travel was _not _one of them, not like ranged-missile throwing or healing or charmspeaking. Something to do with the rarity factor, apparently.

All he knew about the power were things he'd learned himself, mostly by trial and error. Thinking about happy meals when travelling made you end up in China. Concentrating _too much_ on the destination made you puke. Distance was not an issue, but do it two times in a row and you became catatonic. Taking people along was really more of a matter of taking mass along, and he'd discovered that while it had taken him a while and a few disoriented skeletons to perfect it, travelling two people was not all that different from travelling one person. Three and above was a problem, though.

According to what he knew, taking Rachel along wouldn't be a problem, but this world wasn't really bending over itself to conform to his knowledge base so far. It would be safest if he could do a trial run by himself, check and see if it actually worked and all that.

But if he did somehow end up in Medieval Hawaii, he would be all alone there and Rachel would be all alone here with no way of contacting each other and nobody they could talk to or plot with or- he could end up spending the rest of his life as a fisherman in Medieval Hawaii and that would _not_ be fun.

Maybe if he was Percy.

But still, it would _not_ be fun, and one look at Rachel told him that she was thinking the same thing. Maybe. Maybe she was thinking about the possibility about shadow travel ripping her apart into individual atoms and-

"Stop overthinking things," Rachel ordered, "I am coming with you. I refuse to be left alone in freakago."

Oh, so it was that first one.

He supposed really should not be feeling all that relieved about a harbinger of doom refusing to leave him out on his own, but Rachel's hand clutched in his was the only thing that felt even vaguely comforting as he stepped into suddenly unfamiliar shadows.

* * *

_Empire State Building, New York City_

_05:22 pm, 21st September._

* * *

The Empire State Building looked exactly as it had the last time he's stood in front of it, down to the tourists with the cameras. The little shadowed corner he'd travelled them into even had the same graffiti on the trashcans.

"That was anti-climatic," Rachel noted, "Olympus be praised."

Nico told his heart to slow down, and tried not to collapse in sheer relief. Then he closed his eyes and felt for the Underworld, and groaned when he turned up a blank yet again.

"We're not home," Rachel mirrored his groan, "Would there be any point in trying to get to the 600th floor?"

"It's not like we're bursting with options," Nico sighed, "Come on."

Predictably enough, the guy at the reception gave them a lecture on the evils of stupidity and fake information on the internet when they asked him for keys to the 600th floor. Rachel was not happy about giving up that easily, but Nico pointed out that the Pegasus Express was not a viable option at this point.

"Camp," Rachel decided, "We can take a taxi to Long Island."

The Grey Sisters did not respond to Nico's drachma, so they had to hail a normal cab and spend ages pondering on the possibility of a mirror universe Camp complete with an evil Chiron. At least, that was what Nico did. Rachel, a far as he could tell, was napping.

When they finally got to Camp, it turned out that they were Strawberry fields. As in, actual Strawberry fields with no sign of dragons or pine trees or training camps. Rachel and Nico exchanged long-suffering we-totally-expected-that looks, while the cabbie hung around and darkly warned them about evil times and kidnappings and the perils of a kid and his babysitter being out on their own in the dark, which was enough to make Rachel snicker and Nico scowl.

"So, what do we do now?" Nico asked, once the cab had driven away and left them (again) someplace which should have been familiar but was almost achingly nothing of the sort.

Rachel stared towards where Camp would have been for a few moments (if he -the guy who tried to avoid the place as much as possible- was feeling like this, he suspected he wouldn't want to know what Rachel felt like at the abrupt nonexistence of her one haven) before she jerked her head towards it.

"How do you feel about going to the beach?"

It was steadily getting both darker and colder- it would have been much more sensible to try and go back, find someplace with an actual room. But they didn't actually have any place to go to, shadow travel worked better when he took a break between two trips, and Rachel looked depressed. So he shrugged, and started walking.

* * *

_Long Island Sound, New York_

_07:47 pm, 21st September_

* * *

The night was chilly enough that Nico had been forced to put up a wall of rock to stop them from being buffeted by direct winds, but neither of them were doing anything more than staring at the sea or the sand and making random inane comments. Nico knew - and he was pretty sure Rachel did too- that sulking on the beach wasn't doing anything to help the situation, but he'd decided that the situation excused it. Monsters you could fight- the center of your reality being shifted- not so much.

"We should go back to Chicago," Rachel said after a point.

"Why?" he asked.

"I think Chicago's the key," she told him, "Something in there is- I'm not sure. _Involved_ in all of this."

He groaned.

"Obviously, there's nothing for us here, and I think we might get something of a clue there," Rachel said, "I'm not sure- the Oracle is- I don't think it's ever been this unambiguous before. It's stran-"

Rachel would later swear that she'd heard something- footsteps, breathing. The Oracle occasionally gave her warnings, but it never really acted overtly, not this way. Nico, however, insisted that she'd just gotten up all of a sudden, wide-eyed and wild and thrown herself to the other side of their wall. He yelped and followed, demanding to know what on earth was _wrong_ with her.

Rachel was standing in front of the shelter, staring at the surf.

"Rachel?" Nico said, "It's windy out here."

"Do you see that?"

Her voice was subdued and grim. Nico looked from her to the shore, and saw the army of men rising up from the water.

"What the-"

"They want us," Rachel said, her breathing just slightly faster than usual.

"What?" he turned to her, and saw that she was paler than usual.

"They want us," Rachel repeated, and took a step backwards, "The want to take us. To torture us- use us. They have something planned, and they need people. Practitioners."

"_What?_"

"We need to get away from here," Rachel looked at him, "We can't let them capture us."

Nico closed his eyes, felt for their lives-

"They're mortals," he spluttered, "They can't-"

"They're not mortals," Rachel scrambled briefly in the sand and came up with her backpack and threw him his new gym bag, "They're not demigods, but they aren't mortals. They're something else. And don't ask me how I know- I just-"

"You're the Oracle. I can suspend my disbelief," Nico dragged out his sword, "Look, stand back and-"

The men were about thirty feet away, so Nico wasn't expecting one of them to _appear_ next to his face, brandishing a knife. Mortal steel, but that could kill him just as easily as celestial bronze. Nico intercepted the slash with his sheath, drew and brandished his sword in the same motion.

The man hadn't apparently been expecting resistance, and didn't make any move to stop him, so the sword went (with a sickening _snick_- he'd never slashed at anyone human before) straight into his chest.

What Nico didn't expect was the pattern of _black_ spreading across him from the cut, quick and smooth, covering torso and neck and gills in a matter of seconds-

What the hell, _gills_?

"Nico!" Rachel yelled from a few steps behind him.

NIco stared at the black and the gills, and the way the man's- the thing's face contorted into an agonized expression before the whole of him collapsed into dust.

"It's," he said, to himself or Rachel- he wasn't sure, "It's never done that before."

The other men (_things_) had hesitated at Nico's first stroke, and a few of them had taken a cautious step backwards. But now, a steady murmur was rising from their direction, and Nico thought he heard the distinct clack of a _gun, _of all things-

Rachel's arms wrapped around him, warm and tight in the cold air.

"Take us back to yesterday's hotel room," she said, her voice even and commanding and with a vague hint of a three-part harmony that was never her as much as the thing she hosted, "_Now._"

The last thing he heard before he stepped into the shadows was a roar, and then he was back in the room, just as ordered. It took him three deep breaths to get his heart rate back to semi-normal, and five more breaths to find his voice.

"What," Nico said, "in the name of _Hades_ was that?"

* * *

_**0030: **__So, Nico's dropped (possibly literally, but at least he aimed for the bed) off to sleep, I'm vibrating too much to follow him and thank god this room doesn't have a card key or we'd be shivering little wrecks in the dark at this point and I am nowhere near comfortable enough to be okay with that. _

_The Oracle is quiet. Never been conscious when it hijacked me before. Never actually __**felt**__ it before. Mostly it's just green smoke and vague headaches and amnesia._

_It's supposed to be a disembodied all-knowing voice which needs a body to attach itself to._

_It's not supposed to be alive. _

_To quote; what in the name of Hades was that? _

- Excerpt from Rachel Elizabeth Dare's Journal, Dated September 15th (Home)/September 22nd (Here)

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**Notes:** This is the first time I'm writing in this genre. Mistakes, it turns out, are likely to hit me over the head with frightening regularity. Feel free to point them out.


	3. 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not for profit.

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_**2.**_

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_Strange happenings in Chicago- this either concerns a foe which has been imprisoned for millenia, or possibly another incident of delusional patients in mental institutions keeping journals. _

_Kincaid strongly suggests that it is the latter, and points out that something strange is always happening in Chicago. Centuries of strange happenings and a continued reassurance of the... creature's imprisonment would suggest that he is right._

_Am chagrined to find out that I apparently don't really care. Comprehensive knowledge of teenaged rebellion studies pale when faced with the actual fact. Have come to the conclusion that I am still angry with Kincaid over Mr. Dresden, even though I am fully aware that it was not, in fact, his fault._

_This is unacceptable. The Archive must be neutral- a propensity for personal gratification was what resulted in my predecessor's fate in the first place. _

- A scrawl in pink glitter pen from the desk of the Archive.

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_Chicago, Illinois_

_11:05 am_

* * *

The next morning, after a slightly bewildering mess of outraged hotel managers, confused hookers next door and a very loud argument, Nico found himself back in the streets with Rachel calmly chattering at his side.

Back in streets that _should_ have been familiar but weren't, in some place where monsters of the deep looked (and felt) entirely too human. Nico's skin was still crawling over last night- he couldn't remember any time in his life where his sword had been put to use on a mortal. A mortal-like _thing_, whatever. It reminded him of that time with Daedalus, where he'd managed to hold it in for a full fifteen minutes before throwing up in the infirmary. Thank gods the medics had decided it was post-injury issues rather than the son of Hades completely losing his shit over a guy being killed.

At least Daedalus had _asked_ for it. These guys hadn't.

Generally speaking, Nico liked his sword. It marked him as a child of the Underworld, and more importantly- a child of _Hades_. (The Lord of the Dead rarely gave attention, compliments or generally anything other than a long look that seethed with the implication that he could have done better. A gift was, in more than one way, a god-given miracle.) There were times, however, when he wished what he had was the garden-variety celestial bronze every other demigod carried. Times when he'd have settled for Roman gold, even.

Nico adjusted the strap of the gym bag over his shoulder, making sure his sword was still in there. It really shouldn't have been possible for the weight to be both reassuring and daunting at the same time.

Rachel chose that moment to say something and stare expectantly at him. He blinked back at her with a "What?"

"I _said_," she repeated, "What do you think? But obviously, you weren't listening to what I was saying in the first place, which makes it a moot point."

Nico shrugged in a manner which could, with some imagination, be construed as apologetic.

Rachel shrugged back, apparently not as put off by his inattention as he'd expected her to be. If this had been Annabeth, glares would be thrown and heads would have been rolling. Bianca would have been giving him an assessing, exasperated look. Hazel would have been sad.

He really had to stop searching for female big-sister figures in his life one of these days. It was not even like Rachel was made for the job. She dumped Percy (Percy- of all people; if he'd had a chance with Percy he'd kinda have taken it up in a heartbeat and bowled everyone who stood in his way away) without a second thought for the Oraclehood, which was at least slightly reminiscent of Bianca and the Hunters, and we all knew how _that_ had ended.

Two minutes of walking (aimless and directionless, probably done just to reassure themselves that they were doing _something_) later, Nico cleared his throat, "Um. You said something?"

"Right," Rachel nodded, "Let's find an alley."

"What?"

"Or a dark corner."

Nico glanced up at the sky, where the sun was merrily shining away.

"Someplace where we can do weird things and won't be stared at," Rachel clarified.

"But the mist-" Nico stopped, and remembered that the mist did not exist in this world or illusion or whatever it was, "Right. Alleys."

"In Chicago," Rachel added, "Which is not really a safe thing, but I figure with your sword of doom and the broad daylight, we might be able to manage."

"Why?"

Rachel's steps faltered briefly, which was a little alarming, to say the least, "What do demigods do when they have a quest?"

"They go talk to the- oh," Nico paused for a moment to let this sink in, "Wait, you want _me_ to go on a quest?"

"I don't," Rachel said shortly, "I don't like prophecies any more than you do, really. And if you don't want to do it, I think I'll be happier, in many ways. You've been through enough crap."

"Oh."

The silence that followed was, strangely enough, not oppressive. There was a sort of companionship in the mutual dread and discombobulation. Something about this place- they way everything in his (and hers, he was willing to bet) mind screamed _not right_ while the rest of his body pointed out in logical fashion that everything looked and physically felt normal- was more than slightly disquieting. Neither Oracles nor children of Hades were known for having the best grips on their sanity, and this... whatever it was, was likely not being easy on either of them.

_Gods,_ they needed to get out. Needed to do something to stop this. Even if that something was the kind of thing that had gotten his sister electrocuted to death, that had gotten people dead and tortured and manipulated by a sadistic universe into sleeping with their mother-

Nico took a deep breath, and told himself to stop thinking, because they needed to _get out_.

"Yeah," he said, his voice almost steady, "Okay, then."

* * *

They eventually found an alley of sorts- a narrow space between two buildings, one of which looked abandoned and another which was halfway there. Rachel glanced at the debris, and told herself that shivering was not a very Oracle-y thing to do. And besides, if anyone here had a cause to shiver, it was Nico. She was just the instrument of the prophecy- he was the one who was going to be getting it.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked again, a little hopelessly. Her comprehensive all-the-ways-I-can-think-of-to-get-away-from-here list had been exhausted yesterday, and she could not think of anything else that might have helped them get back to where things made more sense.

"We're a little out of choices at this point," Nico muttered, and toed a rag on the ground with his boot, "Anyway, I don't really like being in this place- the sooner we get out..."

"Right," Rachel nodded, agreeing. Then she spent some time staring at the blank, uninteresting wall on her left. She noticed Nico didn't complain.

She... had told herself that she would never have to give a prediction of doom to any of her real friends. Sure, there were all those other campers- half bloods with dreams of glory who fought each other (sometimes literally) for the privilege of being granted a glowing-eyed prediction of glory. But her friends- the ones she'd followed from confused mortaldom into semi-enlightened oraclehood- they were safe. They'd gone through wars and apocalypses and had absolutely no interest in enduring any of that ever again. Percy had assured her the other day that he was fully prepared to scream like a little girl and run away at the first sign of green smoke. Nico hadn't said so, not in as many words, but the thoughtful expression on his face at the time had suggested that he thought Percy had hit upon a rare good idea.

Given their current circumstances, the whole thing struck her as being more than a little ironic. For all that she was technically closer to them than any other person with a soul- mortal or demigod- she would never understand the Fates' sense of humor.

She cleared her throat, "Are you _sure_ about this? Because maybe we could- I don't know. Go somewhere else, see if-"

"I thought you said the whole problem started here."

"Well," Rachel shrugged. So yes, the part of her that was the Oracle was firmly of the opinion that everything they were currently going through was bound up here. A little more to the East, vaguely; but in the same general vicinity as the city. In her (and, as far as she could tell- everyone else's) opinion, the Oracle was never wrong.

"So this is where the answer is, right?" Nico took a deep breath and straightened up, alerting Rachel to the fact that one more inch and he'd pass her (not particularly impressive, granted) height- but oh gods he was what? Fourteen? Fifteen, at most? Some kids who came to her for prophecies were younger, granted- but that was rare these days. And besides, none of them was from the old crowd-

"How," Nico met her eyes, "do we get out of here?"

And that was that.

The way the Oracle took over her body was familiar to her after three years of experience. The first time had been a shock- something from outside barging in and out without leaving her with any of the memories of the experience. The second time, she had been better prepared, able to wrestle out a bit of consciousness, enough to be aware of what her body did and her mouth said when the Oracle commandeered them. Over time, she had learned the trick of being a silent spectator at the back of her own head- not in control, but aware. Aware was good enough.

At first, it was business as usual. She retreated to the back of her mind, watched Nico's set face staring at hers, and prepared herself for the green glow-and-smoke -it didn't quite make her nauseous, what with her not having a body at that point and all, but it _smelled_ strange anyway- and suddenly realized that something was very , very different.

First, there were the visions.

Regardless of what Campers wanted to believe, Rachel never saw the things she predicted- the Oracle liked it double meanings and nasty surprises worded in ways that distracted you till things blew up in your face. (In her less tolerant moments, Rachel referred to the whole thing as having her very own internalized psychotic serial killer.) If she knew what the prophecies meant, she would have told people- aloof aura of know-more-than-thou notwithstanding.

Now though- she knew the Oracle (her body) was saying something, but it was mostly drowned out from her mind in the sea of images which suddenly flooded it.

And that was another thing- the Oracle knew what was going to happen, come godly tantrums or natural disasters. The times she did have visions (always, always where it concerned her- never anything she could use to help someone else, and _never_ during a prophecy), they were perfect down to the last detail. Who lived, who died, when to duck and cover so as to avoid the random mugger from down the street. The Oracle might have been somewhat sadistic, but it was an _accurate_ sadist.

The images she saw now- they were clearly contradictory. Nico on the ground bleeding- a short, grim faced man in a grey cloak standing over him, wielding a glittering sword. Nico clutching at his head, screaming as a _something_ in rags stood next to him, arm upraised. Nico torn apart by a snarling wolf, one in a pack of four. Nico shot point-blank in the skull by a short blond woman with a steady gaze and hand.

Nico on the floor, laughing hysterically, surrounded by walking corpses and with a look in his eyes that made her want to hide.

Multiple images, each and every one of them laced with the same dull certainty that _this will happen_. The one thing she didn't want above anything else- sending another kid- sending her _friend-_ to his death.

And lastly, possibly even more disturbingly; the Oracle. The spirit she was sharing her body with was just that- a spirit. There was no soul, no emotion, no malice- the Oracle dispensed knowledge, and it did it with a studied impersonality. Before last night, she could have stated with absolute certainty that it was not any more alive than her laptop, which did the same thing except with somewhat less fuss.

After last night, during _this_-

The Oracle was a steady presence that felt stronger than ever before, and impersonal was the last word she would have used to describe it. In one swoop, it was everything every Hero in ages had thought it to be, reveling in the pleasure of their pain, delivering horrific dictums they _could not in any way avoid_-

She felt it sharing her mind, almost laughing as it ran through all of Nico's death, trying to decide which of them would have given it the most pleasure-

_Hell, no._

Rachel did something she had never tried to do to the Oracle before- she seized the consciousness and tried to bend it to her will.

* * *

_1. Granola Bars_

_2. Laundry detergent_

_3. Pancake Mix_

_4. Ammo for George and company. (Hit up Baron M. Might as well milk trade of soul for all it's worth- also, he can afford it.)_

_5. Contact LR about new envoy? Contact T and tell him to get his ass over here before I kill rather than maim one of his sisters/cousins/family minions._

_6. Ask Rag M. what the hell she's been doing with those explosions._

_7... start a new grocery list because this one's gone off topic. Dammit Dresden, why the hell am I the one cleaning up your damn mess?_

- From the desk of Retired Sgt. Karrin Murphy, formerly of the Chicago PD.


	4. 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not for profit.

* * *

_**3.**_

* * *

_Ladies and gentlemen, by now you will be aware that the world has gone into- let's put it mildly- something of a downward spiral, at least for those of us who are practitioners. The Fomor want us, and it's safe to say we won't be enjoying whatever it is they want us for. We have no proof, of course, but the lack of any returning survivors does tend to put a damper on potential peace treaties._

_We minor talents are as a rule, grossly unequipped for dealing with their minions. However, we do have two things that we haven't had to date- allies, and organization._

_Given below are a list of safe houses and contact numbers for each city- make sure you know them, and make sure you use them._

paranet home/help topics/rl issues

* * *

_Chicago, Illinois_

_03:20 pm _

* * *

The diner was old, shabby and populated by what could only be called suspicious characters, but it was clean and was affordable- the last thing being an important factor given that Rachel had insisted on dragging them to a shop and getting her smartphone back in working condition. Despite the fact that, you know- there was nobody they could actually call in this place.

It didn't seem to stop her from ignoring his glares in favor of tapping her stylus across the screen, however. Meanwhile, Nico sat across Rachel, staring at the two lines of incomplete prophecy written in the notebook between them, and decided to use his most caustically sarcastic voice.

"That's helpful."

Rachel finally looked up and scowled at him, "The alternative would have been worse."

"Worse?" Nico snarled, then dropped his voice to a hiss when the lone waitress shot a glare at the direction of the two raggedy kids who were taking forever with their sandwiches, "We are stuck somewhere with _humanoid_ monsters, our powers don't work properly and we don't know what to do. How could cutting short the only thing that could have helped us get home make things_ better?_"

Rachel managed to wrestle her wince to a frown at the last moment. She'd been reasonably used to thinking of Nico as that one weird kid who didn't hang out with anyone since Percy and Annabeth stopped being Camp regulars but occasionally wandered over to her cave to listen to her bitch about new-fangled campers who were complete wimps. Encountering pissed-off-like-hell Nico was doing a very good job of reminding her why exactly he _was_ a loner in Camp.

Regardless.

"I know it would have been worse," Rachel said, feeling so certain she almost scared herself, "It would have become much worse."

A silent glare, utterly unmarred by any form of acceptance.

"Nico, believe me- it was better off not said-"

"Does it even matter if you say it or not?" Nico demanded, his voice rising above a hiss again, "It's a prophecy- it's _going to happen_ _anyway_. And now we're going to have to live through it happening without any clue -"

Rachel closed her eyes, counted to ten, and tried to remind herself that Nico was likely as freaked out and stressed out than she was.

"Who is the Oracle here, you are me? I'm telling you- it was _different_ this time-"

"Different? _Different?!_ Remember Oedipus? Believe me when I say that one went off without a hitch despite the people involved running around like beheaded chickens trying to counter it. The Oracle always knows what _will _happen, it doesn't have to cause it- _it's a law of the universe!_"

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in _another world_ right now," Rachel gave up on patience and snapped back, "Another _world_. You think that's not going to do something to your _laws of the universe?_"

At that point, the cook came out from the back room and flexed his impressive muscles at them. Nico looked fully prepared to charge at him (and forget the near two-feet height difference), so Rachel threw some cash onto the table before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the diner. Then they walked (aimlessly wandering, more desperate for something to do than out of any semblance of direction) , the silence between them growing more oppressive with every futile step.

"You really think the Prophecy would have been- you know, bad or whatever?" Nico asked eventually, once his feelings of hopelessness managed to overtake his feelings of rage.

Rachel, who had been poking around on her smartphone for most of the oppressive silence, looked up briefly. "Possibly," she tapped a few things on her phone again, "We won't really know, will we? Also possibly, I've found a place for us to stay tonight."

"I saw a motel a last block-"

"Which one do you like better? The Castle, or the Safehouse M?" another tap, "Or the Carpenter house? But I think that's a little on the other side of town."

"What are-"

"Castle? I don't know. Castle sounds a little intimidating, doesn't it? I mean, it says here it's an actual castle and run by an alleged mob boss in partnership with a vampire, and I'm not entirely sure what I am supposed to feel about that. Maybe we should try the Safehouse first, just to be safe."

Nico deduced that an annoyed Rachel was a Rachel who was uninterested in paying much attention to him, which was actually a very Bianca-like way of dealing with things. Except Bianca was more angry than dismissive. He decided to wait it out.

A few seconds later Rachel sighed, "I'm sorry. That was a little petty," she tilted her smartphone towards him, "I found this site, and it has a pretty good description of the things that attacked us."

"Yeah?"

"They also got my feelings right," Rachel added, "Magic users -practitioners- are captured by these people and taken somewhere and they are never heard of ever again. There's this whole site- organization- with safehouses; and since we are dealing with a lot of stuff we know nothing about..."

"Magic users? Like demigods?"

"More like witches, I think. Mortals. I'm pretty sure the things that attacked us were mortal too. The mortals here are not like the mortals back home, I think."

Nico thought of gills and inhuman speed combined with the _feel_ of mortal, and shivered, "No shit."

Rachel gave him a brief, wan smile. "I figure we'd be safer with people who know what they are doing here. It's... _not_ ideal, but neither of us actually know what is happening here."

"What if they try to attack us?"

"What are the alternatives? Sitting here and sulking, waiting for those things to find us again?"

"I don't like this."

"Me neither, but-"

"Rachel," Nico interrupted, "I know you don't want to give me a prophecy, and I know I don't want to particularly get one. We'll try it your way, all right? We'll see what we can find out- but if this doesn't work, you are going to give me the full prophecy."

"It's not-"

"I don't care. I don't like this place, whatever it is. I want to go back _home_. Even if it means I'll have to go through a prophecy."

Rachel looked at Nico- stubborn and determined, and didn't reply or agree. They could cross that bridge when they came to it.

* * *

_En route to Safehouse M, Chicago_

_07:14 pm_

* * *

It wasn't like either of them _consciously_ decided to wander around (periodically grumbling about the insanity of multiple universes) for hours; it just happened. Rachel was dragging her feet because in the (likely, she decided glumly) event that this plan didn't pan out, she was going to have to deal with Nico trying to make her give a prophecy. Nico, for his part, was a night person not very used to avoiding darkening streets, and tended to assume that _nights_ actually started sometime after two. It worked on the principle that there was really nothing in mortal New York scarier than him, and Chicago wasn't all that different, right?

In his defense, it was initially all fine and drug dealers and muggers were keeping away from him and his giant sword as usual. Then Rachel stiffened and he barely had time to groan before two cars pulled up near them (with a lot of squealing and screeching that managed to run off a hovering drug trader really fast) and their darkened alley, and people got out.

"Mortals?" Nico blinked, his hand momentarily hesitating over his sword, "In _uniforms?_" If black on black with black turtlenecks counted as a uniform. Which Nico supposed it did, given their general uniformity.

"I think they're just hiding their gills," Rachel replied, moving discreetly behind him. Fountain of Knowledge it might be, but the Oracle's asskicking powers were sorely limited. Or nonexistent, as far as he knew. "You know- behind the turtlenecks."

"Rachel, I can't fight _mortals!_"

One of the turtlenecks helped out his moral dilemma by taking out a gun from his jacket, and _shooting_ in their general direction. People and monsters had attempted to scratch at, claw, stab, dismember (etc.- and let's not forget that memorable occasion with uncle Zeus and his thunderbolt) Nico plenty of times before this, but this was the first time in his memory he could recall someone _shooting _at him. With a plain old gun.

It was a lot louder than he'd imagined it would be, and the noise it made as it hit the garbage disposal to their side was high-pitched to add to the loud, and a little bit terrifying.

"Shit," Rachel said from behind him.

Shadow travel was an option, but where to? The motel room they'd spent the last two nights in was familiar, but from all the yelling they'd been subject to this morning, the owner probably had guards posted in the room. At the very least he'd camped out there with his gun.

Another shot rang out, this time to their left, making him jump again. This was grossly unfair. His job description was supposed to include melee weapons, not freaking guns. And how the hell was he supposed to use a sword against a gun?

"Drop your weapon," the guy with the gun said, "Surrender. Come with us, and we may let you live."

"Right," Rachel muttered, but the turtlenecks were oddly quiet, and her voice carried. So did the four-letter word she said when she realized just how much her voice carried.

Nico felt utterly helpless (and ergo, something of a fail as the resident fighter), but he had a feeling drawing his sword would just get him shot for real this time, no questions asked. Why hadn't he signed up for Annabeth's shotgun classes again?

"Weaklings," Gun Guy said, looking at them with distaste, "Your feeble attempts at resistance are in vain. Submit to us, to the glory of our masters, and your pain will be... survivable."

A villain monologue? Against all forms of common sense, Nico felt himself relaxing. It made him feel like he was on firmer ground, to know that even across alternate universes, some things always stayed the same.

Rachel, whose breathing and heartbeat had slowed at the monologue (apparently it wasn't just him who found villain monologues reassuring go figure), cleared her throat, "That's not a very tempting offer."

"It is not an offer," Gun Guy said, and apparently deciding they were not going to fight back, gestured to his minions. "Take them alive, or the masters will be displeased."

The minion with the axe (Seriously? Even Clarisse thought an axe was overkill.) and another guy with a gun stepped forward, fully confident they could take on two kids (or one kid and one young adult whatever) who were clearly a little freaked out.

Nico used their momentary confidence to focus on the ground beneath him. He hadn't tried doing anything to the earth in this universe yet (it was a lot less fun than necromancy or shadow-manipulation), but he prayed this would work. Send out his super-senses to the ground, feel the rock and the soil, and bring it up from the ground before transmuting it back to _rock_-

For a moment, he thought it had worked. There was a tremor on the ground, a shake that somehow gave the _impression_ of coming up. It didn't actually do anything to help them, but it made the turtlenecks pause. As one, they looked over their shoulder, dismissing Rachel and Nico. Minion with a Gun muttered an expletive under his breath, and Axe Guy looked fully terrified all of a sudden.

Well, Rachel reasoned, if a little tremor worried them that much then-

Axe looked back at their monologue-spouting leader a little nervously, "The Rag Lady-"

"Will not thwart our masters again," Gun Guy said, sounding bored, "She is far less powerful than she pretends to be. Against our numbers, she does not stand a chance."

Axe licked his lips, and Rachel got the impression that he didn't quite agree with Gun Guy. Nico was too busy trying to make something happen underground to notice the drama.

It was the roads, he realized. The roads on this street were not made of earth and they were blocking the soil. And when he tried to bring up the soil in a wall, it kinda hit the earth and stopped. There was not enough force to break through the layer, only enough to pound ineffectively at it.

In all his years of throwing rocks around, he'd never before encountered this problem.

"I freaking hate this universe," he muttered, before deciding that _fine_ he'd play it _their_ way.

Nico concentrated on the soil, visualizing an arc around them. One foot wide, arced a little more than a semicircle. Going down a little more than eight feet. Once he'd done that, he thought _transmute to rock, _ and pulled it all up.

The tremor this time was decidedly more localized, and the suddenly appearing eight foot tall dark brown wall (it was not as thick as he'd thought it would be; what was up with that?) was a welcome sight.

The gaping hole that opened up for like four feet between him and Rachel, however, was mystifying. Sudden plops, grunts, cries and bullets (ineffectually striking his wall HA) from the other side seemed to indicate that a hole had opened up there too.

"What the hell I wanted to create a wall not a chasm," Nico threw up his hands, "I swear this place makes no _sense-_"

"Get us out of here - there's an alley on the other side of the street and to the right- you can do that shadow invisibility thing, right?"

"Are you _kidding?_" The surprise had apparently worn off on the other side, and Nico could hear orders from Gun Guy coming to surround his wall and breach through it. If (_when_, he amended bitterly) this happened again, he was going to make his walls circular, "We need to get away as far from here was possible!"

"Just do it!"

Freaking Oracles. Nico took the time to give an exasperated sigh, and did as she said. Only it turned out that he couldn't actually make shadows make him invisible anymore, and the most they could do was crouch in the shadow of another some kind of half-mutilated box people had decided not to throw into the garbage for no reason at all.

A good thing, as it turned out. He had practically collapsed to his knees when they'd appeared there. Rock walls followed by shadow travel was never a good combination. Nico leaned against the wall, fully prepared to close his eyes but unable to do it when he was still within sight of the turtlenecks. Stupid Oracles and their stupid impulses.

"We should have gone somewhere else," he gasping, "_Far away._"

"That's not going to help us go back."

"Why would we go back? _Did you notice the guns?_" He was still panting, gasping. That would teach him to overdo things.

"Because there are people in that car," Rachel told him, digging into her bag, her face set into worried lines. She came out with a celestial bronze knife.

Nico froze, his breathing getting cut off altogether for a moment. When he impulsively scanned the other side of the street for cars, he saw what Rachel had (presumably) seen- a family, tied up and gagged, fully visible from the open door of one of the cars. A little kid with short hair _crying_ while his parents clutched him to them as much as they could with their hands tied-

Oh, that was just _perfect._ This universe was proving to be exactly as sadistic as the one he'd come in from.

* * *

_"HELP. NOT JOKE. 4TH ST. BEAUVALD AV-"_

- Text sent to the Paranet Hotline, 1857 hours. Unrecognized Number.

_"turtleneck cars. lot of them. seems legit. hiding. good luck."_

- Text sent to Paranet Control Room, 1905 hours.

_"Servitors in 4th Street. Beauvald Avenue. Reported high numbers. Requesting action."_

- Mass Text sent from Paranet Control Room, 1905 hours.

_"eta 5 m. who else?"_

- Text sent from Karrin Murphy's mobile, 1908 hours.

_"Forces nearby. ETA 10 m."_

- Text sent from Raith Control Room to Paranet CR, 1907 hours.

_"vamps, 10 m. baron's people contacted. no clear eta."_

- Text sent from Waldo Butters to Karrin Murphy, 1907 hours.

_"batman unhappy. turtlenecks going down hard. bets?"_

- Text sent from Andi O'Shea to Waldo Butters, 1908 hours.

_"oracle does not place hopeless wagers, gammawolf. get changed already."_

- Text sent from Waldo Butters to Andi O'Shea, 1909 hours.

_"nag."_

- Text sent from Andi O'Shea to Waldo Butters, 1909 hours.

_"kick their asses. will update as reqd. love you. :)"_

- Text sent from Waldo Butters to Andi O'Shea, 1910 hours.

* * *

**End Notes:** Last couple of chapters updated to include possibly insignificant little changes. Just running off with a lot of random ideas. :) Will possibly run into a logic wall in future, but fun.


End file.
